The Slickest
by BE-Mistress
Summary: RG: Reluctantly, Rikku helps Gippal finish pack to leave for Crimson Squad, numbly hoping she can convince him otherwise.


A/N: This story is a **sequel** story to "As Slick as her Blades" and "Slicker than her Blades" **BUT **you don't _have_ to read them to understand this.

**Thank you to all the reviewers and readers** of the past two stories! This fic is a bit darker and contains almost no humour, but considering the situation they're in, I think it's understandable.

Bear in mind that much time has passed since the last story, and Rikku's feelings towards Gippal have changed dramatically.

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**The Slickest**

_1FRICKENgirl_

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The first thing that comes to mind is the last thing I want to think about.

I just want to hold him, keep him in bed all morning, through the afternoon, through the evening, and all the way to till end the day when it would be too late… and he won't be able to go.

Sighing quietly, I grip on tighter to the sheets, refusing to open my eyes to greet reality. If I open them, I know what I'll see: darkness; early four-in-the-morning darkness. I'll see his beaten, big, brown bag lying against his closet door, fully packed aside from a few more belongings. I'll see his empty room, containing nothing but furniture and a hazy fog of settling dust and smoke reflecting the last rays of moonlight before the sun takes over the sky. I'll see his bare walls, stripped of his posters, his family pictures, even his coloured wallpaper that he had since he was 5. All that serves as evidence of the images hung are holes of nails jammed into the wall and a rectangle hue around their places of rest.

I prefer the darkness underneath my eyelids. Here I can rearrange the scene however I want. I can have his room look fully occupied – every machina scrap in place. I can have the sun setting happily beyond his window, telling him he's long missed the Crimson Squad ship and is forced to stay. I can have my Pops ring us up, declaring good news that because of Wyhler's death and Gippal's inability to support his provider's home, he is able to move in with us, and live with us, and stay with us. Stay with me.

I hear the bathroom door open, and a humid, sweet-smelling, soothing aroma creeps out and finds its way to my nose, waking me from my darkness, shattering the happy scene I had painted.

My eyes peek open slightly, not even a hair's width, and already I can feel everything come back to me. The words he'd spoken, the vacant room, and the agonizing feeling of hopelessness running around like an annoying fiend within my gut. I can't bear it; I can't bear to tell him goodbye.

If he had decided to leave months ago – a year ago, or more – then perhaps I would've jumped at the chance of getting to dump all his belongings and stuff them into a bag. I'd make sure he woke up and was at the dock at least two hours before the ship's arrival to guarantee he wouldn't miss it. I probably would've been there to see him go and wave him off anxiously with a wide grin on my face.

But no. He had to choose _now_. Now, when everything's finally going well between us.

It's not entirely his fault, I know. It's Sin and his big fat ass. It's Gippal's good intentions. It's Wyhler's death, and Gippal's financial inability to keep up with the maintenance of their home. It's me… and making this harder than it has to be.

I feel his presence walking across the room, and hear him rummaging through his packed bag.

I didn't have to stay overnight. No one asked me to. Pops certainly wouldn't have permitted me to if I'd told him. It's just… I can't get out of my mind that one of his stupid antics during his time in the squad will wind him up in death. That I won't be able to see him again, and that the only guy I've actually felt something for… will be gone.

He turns to me. "Hey, you're awake."

It suddenly occurs to me that my eyes have been fully opened for a while now, and I was too lost in my thoughts. Glancing downward, I realize I've been staring at his half exposed body for Spira knows how long.

I look away, embarrassed, and pull the sheet over my head. "Put something on," I mumble from underneath.

I hear him chuckle softly, and it echoes faintly throughout the empty room making its final prints along the walls. "You sure that's what you want?" he asks.

I nod, and then tell him, "Yes", after realizing he couldn't see my head.

There's some ruffling and the sound for his footsteps approaching me. In pure impulse, I clutch on to the sheet tighter, fearfully awaiting his arrival.

He grabs the sheet and rips it off of me, causing me to let out a joyous shriek of laughter. He then jumps on the bed and wraps me up in protective arms, pressing his head against my nape. He mumbles jumbled Al Bhed words against my skin, tickling my senses.

I smile at his behaviour. "Your shirt," I point out.

"It's not like you care," he tells me with a devious grin.

I feel my cheeks redden at his statement, despite how much I hate blushing in front of him. Then, as the fun fades away, I drape my arms around his torso and pull him close. I whisper in his ear, "Please don't go."

I hear him sigh heavily. "I don't have a choice."

"Can't you just wait one more year? I'll be sixteen soon. I'll go with you," I say hopefully, but inside I know we've been over this before.

"Your Pops wouldn't allow it, and I'm really needed out there _now_."

"Other guys can do it. You don't have to go. Why won't you stay here with me?"

"Rikku," he says exasperatedly. "Don't be selfish."

I flinch at his words and watch as he crawls off of me and makes his way back to his bag, leaving me with a cold feeling of discomfort. "_You're _selfish," I hear myself muttering, but a hard feeling of regret follows immediately upon my saying.

He hears me and stares at me unwaveringly. "You don't mean that."

I glance down. So what if I didn't? I could've, couldn't I? In many ways this is all his doing and it is that he's being selfish. This decision was entirely his. If he wants to leave me alone and go after his own desires, he can do so.

I sit up and observe in despondency as he dresses and gets ready to leave. In less than an hour, I won't be seeing him... at all.

He turns around to face the room, gazing around to see if he's forgotten anything.

I want to tell him he's forgotten _me_, but that'll just throw us into another argument again. I fumble with the oversized gloves in my hand. "Here," I say, tossing them over to him.

He easily catches it, gives me a small, appreciative smile as he pulls them on. He glances around again. "Is there anything else?"

I look around with him. "No."

He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back against a wall with a stifled yawn. "So I guess… that's it."

I fiddle with my fingers numbly, stalling for time.

"Oh," he suddenly says and walks over to his drawer. He pulls out the first one and takes out a long cardboard box. "Almost forgot," he says with a distant smile.

I rest the side of my head in my palm. "What is it? You finally got yourself a weapon?" I say with a snicker. But the humour dies off as I eventually understand nothing I do can stop him from leaving.

"No," he tells me in a fake depressed tone. He then reaches out to ruffle my hair teasingly, placing the box on my lap. "It's for you… For when you get older and you're able to wield it with your skinny arms."

I give him a confused look.

"Just remember who gave it to you, and think of his kindness before you do anything… lunatic-ish."

I'm still confused as I reach for the lid of the box. "What the heck-"

He clamps his hand down on mine immediately. "Don't open it now. Wait… till I'm gone. Out of your sight. Totally far, _far_ away."

I narrow my eyes in suspicion. Whatever he got me, it's probably something that sure to piss me off and make me want to go raging after him in anger. That's why he wants me to wait till later. Coward.

"And here," he pulls out a small piece of paper from his back pocket, and gives it to me. "Since you've poked so many holes into the other one and I know you're just _dying_ to have another one."

I stare at the photograph of his smiling self in my hands. I can't help but laugh lightly. "How conceited of you."

He shrugs and leans down to take my arm. "C'mon. The movers are coming soon, and I need to go."

Slowly, I get off the bed and he goes to take his bag. I walk with him out of the home and outside into the dimly lit desert. We walk towards the outskirts of Home until the sun finally peeks above the horizon. We stop.

He turns to face me, and runs the back of his gloved hand alongside my cheekbone as if trying to remember every detail of my face. "Had fun with ya, Kid," he says.

I can't bring myself to smile back. I can't bring myself to even reply.

He stops at my chin, gently cups it, and kisses me lightly. He's surprised at my stillness. "C'mon, Rikku…"

I can feel prickling tears brimming the edge of my eyes at his every word, knowing very well that he's leading up to the goodbye. I blink them back in. "D-Don't say… anything. Just… don't."

He seems to understand me, and remains silent. But suddenly, he takes my hand into his. He places it on his chest, over his heart, and then brings it up to kiss it softly.

I bite my lip, and though I can think of a million ways why the action may be interpreted as perverted and not sweet, I still take his hand into mine, place it over my own chest, and then quickly bring them to my lips.

He smiles at my response and pulls our hands away so he could lean in. Then, he kisses me.

You'd think it was the first kiss of his life by the way he pressed against me, hands moving up and down my back, sliding his head from side to side to make sure he tasted every inch of my mouth before we pulled apart. I can't say it was entirely his doing, cause I was sucking out every last bit of him I could get, clutching on to his hair, sniffing in his scent, saving it in my memory so I could recall it when I'd miss him the most.

Finally, he broke it off with a series of short kisses trailing down from my mouth to my neck, mumbling he had to leave now, and that he misses me already, and that he'll think of me, and that he promises not to kiss or be kissed by any other girl during his departure. Whispering that he'd come back shortly, and that we'd see each other soon, and that he'll check to make sure I've been using his gift properly. Then, he stared at me longingly, waiting for my answer. Waiting for me to say… anything.

But I just couldn't do it. I know I'd have a breakdown and the tears would flow like crazy if I dared to open my mouth.

And so he had a little look of disappointment in eye, but he tried to conceal it with one of his dashing smiles. "Take care of yourself, Kid," he whispers.

I nod dumbly and want so badly to tell him the same, but my quivering mouth just won't speak.

He accepts my silence and swings his bag over his shoulders. With one final embrace, he turns to leave.

It's only until his figure is but an inch tall when I'm finally able to speak. "Gippal!" I shout.

And despite the distance, he instantly turns around, as if he'd been waiting for me all this time to talk.

But just like I suspected, my eyes gave way and tears ran down my face, my legs collapsed and I sat on the sand bawling pathetically. But with the thought of this perhaps being the last exchange of words I'd have with him, I managed to shout, "Be careful!" Then desperately add, "Or I'll kill you!"

I think I see his smile. "Naw, don't worry. It's Sin's ass that better watch out!" he declares. He brings his arm to his chest, and then outstretches it towards me. He turns back around and continues to walk, over the dune, until he disappears out of sight.

My sobs have subsided, but my nose is still runny. Reaching for the box beside me, I place it on my lap. After a few moments of lingering, I slip my fingers underneath the lid and open it.

I bite my lip to hold in another pathetic sob, but find myself trying to contain a few gasps of amusement instead. The object in the box reflects off the sunlight rays and glitters freely into my eyes. I run my hand over its smooth surface.

A pair of nice, red, slick, crescent blades…

I sigh with a smile.

…the slickest.

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_Thank you for reading. **Please Review.**_


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